


Please Just Fall in Love with Me (This Christmas)

by muchmorethanaprincess



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: ALL OF THE CHRISTMAS THINGS, Canon verse, Christmas Music, Christmas baking, Christmas fic, Christmas tree shopping, F/M, Fluff, Post Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9050089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchmorethanaprincess/pseuds/muchmorethanaprincess
Summary: Kate is determined to make Seth like Christmas. (Just some holiday fluff)





	

**Author's Note:**

> MERRY FUCKIN' CHRISTMAS Y'ALL. 
> 
> I just wanted to write some Christmas sethkate. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> (Title is from the song Cold December Night which is THE BEST CHRISTMAS SONG EVER, obviously.)

It starts with a Christmas album in a gas station in early December.

Kate spots it at the register while Seth is paying for her Coke—Michael Buble's  _Christmas_ —and she grabs it and sets it on the counter for the teenaged cashier to ring up.

“This too,” she says. Seth raises an eyebrow at her. She stares back until he shrugs and looks away.

She pops it in the CD player when they get back in the car.

“I love this Christmas album,” she says softly.

“Why am I not surprised?” Seth’s voice is irritated, but fond.

Kate sings along to the album, and points out her favorites. The whole time Seth just looks grumpy, and she figures he hates Christmas. That’s the only logical explanation, right? It’s stupid to hate Christmas, Kate thinks, but Seth hates a lot of things.

But she looks over when “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” is playing, and it’s more than just usual Seth Gecko grumpiness—the song is upbeat, and he looks _miserable_. He feels her gaze and turns his head to meet it, frowns a bit more when she furrows her brow.

He sighs. “Do you even remember where you were last Christmas?”

Kate jerks back slightly in shock. She hasn’t thought about it, but— “No. No, I don’t…”

“I do,” Seth says, his voice clipped. “Richie and I were working as collectors for Venganza—just started actually, after we were basically threatened into it. And I thought you were dead.”

Kate looks at her hands. “I wasn’t.”

Seth sighs. “Yeah. Amaru.”

“Yeah. I don’t remember anything from December. I wasn’t strong enough to break through yet.”

“So last Christmas wasn’t great. Richie played fucking holiday music over the goddamn speakers in the safe house, I couldn’t get away from it.”

“And you just wanted to wallow,” Kate guesses. She knows him well enough.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Dare I ask if you have any happy Christmas memories from your childhood?”

He looks over at her, puzzled for a moment, but she’s holding back a smile. A joke. She’s making a joke. A dark one, but she’s poking fun at him and for once he doesn’t want to roll his eyes. He can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips before he breaks her eye contact.

“No,” he answers.

She shrugs. “I’ll teach you to like it, don’t worry.”

Seth laughs, and it’s nice for a moment. “Good luck.”

 

Kate teams up with Richie to cover the place they’re staying with lights, and Seth acts annoyed, but when they announce a few days later that they’re going out to get a tree, he insists on coming “to keep them in check.”

Kate skips down the rows of pine trees on the lot, grinning like an idiot.

“God, they smell so _good_ ,” she shouts. She leaves the brothers to their own devices for a while, and returns with hot chocolate when they’re fighting over the height of what Richie has deemed “the perfect tree.”

She only looks at it for a moment, her head tilted in thought, before she hums. “No, I don’t think so. It’s _too_ perfect, it’s just not right. You need a tree with _character_ , you know?”

Seth and Richie look at each other, not getting it. Kate’s already moving on down the next row.

“God, people who love Christmas are weird,” Seth mutters.

“I heard that, Mr. Grinch!” Kate yells.

He smiles in spite of himself.

They come home with a tree that’s a little misshapen, which is exactly why Kate likes it. Seth insists they can get one that’s more expensive, and Kate has to insist that she doesn’t _want_ a more expensive tree. She wants this one, rejected and crooked and all. Seth wrestles it onto the car alone, making a ridiculous fool of himself denying Richie’s help. When he finally manages it, he looks at Kate.

She crinkles her nose. “You sure we don’t need to find something for you to benchpress? I don’t think you’ve impressed me much today.”

“Oh shut it, Cindy Lou Who.”

Kate tries to hide her smile in the backseat.

 

Kate wants to go back to her old house in Bethel for Christmas. It’s a specific request, and Seth and Richie look at her like she’s gone batty when she asks. She doesn’t want to spend the day there or anything like that, she just needs to retrieve something.

“A recipe?” Seth asks, unimpressed. “You want to go back to Bethel for a piece of paper?”

“You don’t _understand_ ,” she says. “It was my mother’s Christmas bread, we had it every year. It was special. It’s not something I can find online, okay? It’s a _Fuller family recipe_ ,” she emphasizes each word with her hands, “my mom learned how to make it from my dad’s mom, and now the only way I can have it is if I make it myself. Now, I am going back to Bethel to get it whether you two come or not, got it? I’m leaving tomorrow.”

When she wakes up the next morning, the brothers are both packed and ready to go.

“We don’t get it,” Richie says while he helps put her duffel on her shoulder, “but we’re not gonna let you do it alone.”

“I’d be fine,” she grumbles.

“I’m sure you would. But you don’t have to.”

She nods. The truth is, she’s happy for the help. She doesn’t really want to see Bethel or her old home again. She just wants her damn Christmas bread.

“Richie did some digging last night,” Seth says, when they’re in the car and he’s driving. “And there are people actually living in your old house now, so how do you want to do this?”

Kate sighs. This is an expected wrinkle (it’s been more than a year, after all) but one that she’d rather not deal with. “Can we just figure it out when we get there?”

The boys agree, and they make their way to Bethel.

As their luck would have it, the family that lives there is having a Christmas party when they arrive that evening, so they don’t have to bother with sticking everyone up or sneaking in in the dead of night, much to Seth’s relief (he finds sneaking undignified). Instead, they wander in like they were invited, and Richie moves to socialize and keep track of the guests while Seth and Kate rummage through the kitchen.

“It was right—” Kate cuts off when she opens a corner cabinet. “Here. It was right here, and they didn’t trash it when they moved in. Oh, thank God,” she breathes, more relieved that she realized she would be.

Seth watches as she pulls a tattered book from the cupboard, setting it in her lap and thumbing through the pages. It’s an old, conventionally published cookbook, but there are loose pages and notecards stuffed throughout, handwritten. Kate closes the book and hugs it to her chest for a moment, her eyes wet.

Seth still doesn’t _get it_ —he and Richie never had anything like what she did—but he understands it as much as he can now. It was a piece of her mother, and her family, and she can actually have it back. He’s glad she insisted on the trip.

“Sorry,” she says, looking up and wiping her eyes, “let’s get out of here.”

Seth nods. “Yeah, you’ve got bread to make.”

She pushes him playfully, they round up Richie, and they hit the road.

 

When Seth tastes the bread, hot out of the oven and covered in butter, he keeps his head down and doesn’t say anything, but Kate sees the way he pauses after his first bite. And he takes three more slices.

When Richie tries it ten minutes later, the first words out of his mouth are, “Oh my God, this is delicious.”

Kate beams with pride.

“I’m serious, this is amazing. Can I marry you for this bread?”

Seth grumbles, Kate giggles.

“Sorry, Christmas only.”

 

It’s Christmas Eve when the album makes an appearance again. They’re all getting out of the car after dinner when Cold December Night—Kate’s favorite—starts playing, and she leaves her door open and holds Seth back while Richie walks inside.

He turns to her, looks down at her hand tugging on his sleeve. “What?”

“This is my favorite Christmas song. Dance with me?”

Seth is _really_ not one for dancing, but he obliges, pulling her closer by her lower back while she laces her fingers through his other hand. The song is romantic. He tries to ignore it.

She swings him back and forth for a minute, keeping time with the quick song, and he rolls his eyes. When she’s had enough of that she slows down, and strokes her short nails along the back of his neck. He shudders and nearly groans at the sensation. They’re barely swaying, just holding each other, when she speaks.

“Seth.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you gonna kiss me, or do I have to do everything myself around here?”

His eyes snap open and his jaw almost drops. He swallows.

“Uh, no. I think I can handle that.”

She raises an eyebrow expectantly, and he sweeps down to kiss her. His arm circles her back, the other hand weaving through her hair as he walks her up against the car. Kate sighs contently as she loops her arms around his neck. She knew he had this in him, but he wouldn’t do it until she goaded him.

She pulls away a minute later. “Seth?”

“Hmm?” He’s nuzzling at her neck and doesn’t stop until she tugs his head up by his hair.

“Merry Christmas.”

He smiles. “Merry Christmas, Kate.”

 

She makes French toast with the Christmas bread the next day, and Seth doesn’t get it at first.

“It just seems like a lot of work,” he says, looking at the frying pan as she dips a slice in egg.

She slams her fist down on the counter. “Tradition, damn it!”

“Hmm, don’t have many of those, not familiar,” he mumbles. She can see the smile he’s holding back.

“You and Richie have your stupid handshake and that weird thing you always say.” She waves her hand as if that explains everything.

He thinks for a moment. “You got a problem with ‘dying in the arms of a beautiful woman’?”

“Yeah, I do! If that’s how it plays out then who the fuck’s arms am I supposed to die in?”

The implication in her words—that she assumes she’s the beautiful woman he’d die holding—kind of hits him in the face for a moment. But he plays it off.

“Huh. I guess we’ll have to take that into consideration.”

When he takes his first bite, buttered and powdered sugared and covered in syrup, he can’t hold it in this time.  
“Holy shit, this is good.” He pauses. “Can _I_ marry you for this bread? This French toast, specifically.”

Kate thinks about it. “You could, but it wouldn’t get you any more of it.”

He shrugs. “Fair enough.”

 

They open presents after Richie joins them, and the heart shaped sunglasses Seth got her are nice ( _expensive_ , she thinks, when she feels their weight and spots the brand).

“I saw them and just…” he trails off.

“They’re perfect.” Kate grins, putting them on and pushing them up her head to hold her hair back.

But the colored, folded paper he gives her is better. She opens it, and it takes a moment to get the gist of the text. It’s a flyer for Scott’s band.

“What’s this?” she asks.

Seth clears his throat, almost like he’s embarrassed. _He’s so stupid_ , Kate thinks, but she loves him.

“Scott’s band has a gig on New Year’s Eve. I thought we could go.”

She ducks her head and smiles. Then she climbs into his lap and kisses him.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his lips.

“God guys, seriously?” Richie groans, exasperated.

Kate presses her lips together to keep from laughing. She’s just too happy. “Sorry Richie. Here,” she pushes a present in front of him, “your turn.”

 

They go see Scott on New Year’s Eve. Kate gives him a loaf of the Christmas bread backstage after the show.

The holidays are different now. But they’re still good.

And Seth grudgingly agrees that Kate did teach him to like them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment letting me know what you think! And happy holidays to all of you :)


End file.
